Sitting Duck
by TB's LMC
Summary: Some people think being the one organizing things at Mobile Control is the easy job. What happens when that very thing makes Scott Tracy a target? Follow-up to my story "Darker Side of Blue." Warning: Contains non-explicit references to male rape.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Some people think being the one organizing things at Mobile Control is the easy job. What happens when that very thing makes Scott Tracy a target? Follow-up to my story "Darker Side of Blue."_

_Author's Note: This story contains references to male rape and may therefore not be suitable for all readers. While the act is not explicitly described, I've given it an "M" rating simply due to the subject matter contained herein._

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><p><strong>SITTING DUCK<strong>

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><p>Another rescue. He loved it. Loved the adrenaline racing through his body. The way his heart beat in double-time when the klaxon sounded, when standing in the Lounge getting the debrief, when assessing the situation. Every military operation had caused the same reaction. Getting suited up, hopping into the cockpit of the latest in Air Force technology. And space. The feel of a rocket blasting to life, G-forces pressing you so far into your seat you were sure you'd go right through it.<p>

But there was nothing like Thunderbird One.

From the time he grabbed the light fixtures, from the time the wall swung him around into One's hidden hangar; from the moment he saw her sleek, silver body and the gantry began to move, to bridge the chasm between him and her...those first moments were like the anticipation of making love with someone new for the first time. The actual flying was like an extended orgasm. The kind that makes stars explode in your head, that keeps you high for hours.

He could never get enough of her, of feeling the power beneath him. Pure exhilaration.

He'd given up a lucrative and rewarding career as an Air Force Man to take this job. But there weren't very many times he regretted it. He rolled his head first to one side, then the other. A few bones in his neck cracked and he sighed softly. Grasping attitude and speed levers that were smooth, worn from his gentle hands. The high-pitched whine settled into his consciousness. This seemed to be a fairly straightforward rescue. He'd already given setup orders to Two's crew. No need for anything but the man and his ship.

Always good. Always optimistic. Always ready for action. At the beginning, always okay.

And on he raced.

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><p>First on-scene, as usual. Sometimes, if the situation was dire enough, this moment would start a whole different type of adrenaline rush. The rush that came from knowing people were in danger of dying, and that you and your brothers were all that stood between them and the Great Beyond. In this case it was a cave collapse. The people here in Pennsylvania used caves to draw tourists as much as Orlando used Disney World to do the same. Most had been brought out, but apparently there was a teenager and two adults as yet still trapped. Hopefully, Scott thought, still alive.<p>

"_Mobile Control from Thunderbird Two."_

"Mobile Control here. What is your ETA, Thunderbird Two?"

"_ETA now 3.5 minutes, Scott."_

"F.A.B. I'm waiting for the local sheriff to arrive."

"_What? He's not already there?"_

"No," Scott replied with a half-frown and half-grin. "Apparently his wife's getting ready to give birth to twins."

"_That's some kind of dumb luck, it happening now with this thing going on," _Virgil replied.

Scott heard the whine of her engines and watched as the small green speck grew and grew until it was hovering not more than a handful of yards away. Of course, he'd never tell Virgil, but he really admired Thunderbird Two. Virgil always claimed it was better than One – and many friendly...well, _mostly _friendly...arguments had ensued. Before he could take that thought any further, he heard the VTOLs ignite. Scott could feel the heat as they fired and narrowed his eyes.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two. Let's not barbecue the field commander."

The expected guffaws soon came to his ears and he grinned. The giant 'bird began to rise on her stilts until at last she came to a stop high above Pod 5.

"_Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control. Alan, John and I will be handling the extrication, and Gordon's with us on medical."_

"F.A.B., Thunderbird Two." Scott checked the local map he'd downloaded via satellite from Thunderbird 5's computer. He saw very little in the way of obstructions below-ground. Using the flat-panel touch pad in directly in front of him, Scott maneuvered the pointer to the western side of the second tunnel that had collapsed, where the trapped tourists were supposed to be. A quick double-tap zoomed in on that location and confirmed the existence of a third tunnel only five feet to the north of Tunnel 2. And to the south, the first tunnel was merely 4 feet away.

"That set of caves is a spider web of tunnels, Virgil," Scott said into his headset mike. "I don't like what might happen if the Mole cuts through the north or south entrances. Take it down the second one only. You'll have to bore down about 20 feet before the western edge of the collapse and come right back up through the debris blocking the tunnel."

"_Do we know where the tourists are exactly?"_ Virgil asked as the Mole's trolley roared to life inside the pod.

Scott frowned as he used his finger on the flat panel to trace the path he wanted the Mole to take. "I'm showing they're nearer the eastern edge. This is going to have to be precise, Virg. You can't be off by so much has half a foot when you surface. I'm transmitting the map and projected path to you now."

"_F.A.B."_

So many things could go wrong on this. Truth be told, he wouldn't want anyone but Virgil piloting the Mole right now. If anyone could make that hair's breadth entry without causing the tunnel to completely collapse over the trapped people, it was Virgil. But as precise as he was, this worried Scott. Even if the tunnel held during the Mole's entry, it could very well collapse before his brothers got all the victims out.

He looked up just as the sounds of the Mole roaring out of the pod reached his ears. A man ran towards him, shirt tails hanging out over his jeans, his fly unzipped halfway and his boot laces untied. The man was probably in his early forties, brown smartly-cut hair showing no signs of gray yet. Scott smiled in welcome as the man huffed up to his mobile control unit.

"Inter...national...Rescue..." the man puffed.

"Yes, sir, and you are?"

Have to play it cool. No matter who or what you're confronted with. Everything's still okay. Rescue's only just started. Diplomatic. Kind. Understanding. Thoughts running rampant beneath the near-black curls.

"I'm Sheriff Tupper," the man said, offering a well-calloused hand. "Sorry I'm so late. My wife Mary's havin' a hard time poppin' our twins out!"

Smile politely again, shake the offered hand. No big deal. Outwardly.

"No problem, Sheriff, we have the situation well under control. Your local rescue personnel are on-scene to assist once the victims have been recovered."

"So I can go back to my wife?"

Lives were at stake. The local economy could suffer from this collapse today. As the head of law enforcement, he was more worried about his wife and family than potential deaths and the devastation wreaked on a local mainstay. Perhaps if you had a wife and two brand-new babies coming, your priorities shifted. Substantially. But were they not in good hands? Were they not in a place where help would be immediate no matter what happened? These trapped tourists were not. Priorities.

His priorities had always been skewed, and changed whichever way his thoughts blew. One minute, one brother. The next minute, another. Hurt one to help another, let one die so that another may live. Decisions, always decisions. Hurt your father to do what you felt best for strangers. Refuse to stop when you knew going forward might kill. Smile tightly and nod and pretend everything's under control. It _has_ to be under control. Mustn't give the illusion that it's not. Not even to yourself.

"Of course, Sheriff, I completely understand." Lie to protect. Lie to serve. "My best wishes to you and your family."

"Thanks, buddy!" he replied with a clap to Scott's shoulder. "You take care, and just get in touch with the station if you need me, they'll know how to find me."

Scott nodded, lips still drawn. The corners curved upwards as the thoughts turned south. Selfish bastard. International Rescue's here, I don't need to be here. They'll handle it. Never mind my men, my fellow townsfolk. Never mind the lives at stake. Never mind what I could learn from them. What I could learn that could very well help me in the future.

Selfish. Cold. Reasonable. The facts were such that the only logical conclusion was to stay and help. Help rescue, help watch, help direct. But no. He didn't want to stay. International Rescue didn't need help. They could do anything. Everything. The impossible. So good-bye, good luck and thanks. Thanks for making my responsibility go away.

His face turned to a grimace as he watched the Mole's trolley rise from the back. The great drill bit started turning, the rear jet came on. Once again sending them into peril. Once again making the decision. Once again in command. _Au_ _revoir_ rather than good-bye. Then no good-bye left for your memory if the unthinkable happened.

"Mobile control to Mole. Keep me informed."

_"F.A.B., Scott."_

"Mobile control listening out."

Listening just in case he heard it – a twinge of worry in Virgil's voice; a clipped, short bark in John's; an octave higher in Gordon's; breathlessness in Alan's. He knew the cues. It was never a case of words, only of actions. Of sounds. The years had provided him with supplemental information on sounds from the four he knew so well outside of this business.

The family business. The secret business. Nobody on Earth knew he was God. Nobody would ever know. It was as it should be.

_You will live and you will die._

Sorry, that's the choice to be made, and it's my choice to make. You're only ten years old? Sorry, I'm God. You're newly married? Sorry, I'm God. You're pregnant? Sorry. Can't help you.

Over and over again. Maybe having a wife and children _did_ change your priorities. He had only known the life of the eldest. No childhood to speak of, gone too quickly in a terrifying flash of tragedy. Always responsible. Always there to dry a tear, to rock a small body, to help with homework, to guard and protect. To protect and serve. Older brother. Field commander. Those were his priorities.

No children.

Why was he thinking of this now as the Mole disappeared beneath the surface? Because if there were children at home to hold and care for, it would help take up the void left behind by the death of one of these men who were his brothers. His sons. They were his children. They had taken the void left by Mother. Replace one love with another, but it didn't work, not in the long-term. Temporary graces, temporary salve for the wound, but without rooting infection from its center it would fester and eventually rupture and there would be all the ugliness of years' worth of being eaten away.

Ugliness as his eyes followed the blip on his monitor. Tunnel down, tunnel in. Further and further, danger increasing. Never easy, never unwanted, never knowing the outcome. A stranger approaching. Hand at the ready, prepared to grab the laser pistol if needed. Not always welcome, International Rescue, not always friendly faces. A woman, older, probably in her sixties. Seemed harmless but you never knew. Fingers flexed, prepared.

"Sir, my granddaughter is in there."

"Yes, ma'am, is that the teenager?"

"Yes, the teenager and the two adults are my two daughters. Lisa Grimm, Lora Parsons and my granddaughter Jade Parsons."

"Could you describe them for me please, ma'am?"

Lisa and Lora are twins, my daughters you know, both have long, brown hair, both fairly thin, both have brown eyes. My granddaughter's got sandy blonde hair, cut short, real curly, a bit plump."

"Thank you, ma'am, I'll relay that to the team."

"They're helping, they're going to save them, right?"

Reassure. Lie if you must, you can't predict the outcome. "Yes, and your name?"

"Karen, Karen Grimm."

"I'm Scott," he replied, sticking his hand out. She took it and clung to it, eyes raking over the monitors and buttons of Mobile Control. Safety concerns, security hazard, but no, she wouldn't remember a thing. They never did. He held her hand. Be strong, be the rock. That's her family down there. It's _his_ family down there, too. Kindred souls watching and waiting. They never remembered what they saw. She wouldn't even remember what he looked like. Thousands of studies had been conducted. Victims and their families remembered vague impressions – dark hair, light hair, blue eyes maybe, and safety. How the men of International Rescue made them feel more than how they looked. Good for business. She wouldn't remember him or MC.

"Mobile Control to Mole. Have description of three targets." Proceed to give them the facts, monotone, staid, show no emotion. Be sure. Certain. Show strength to the grandmother, the mother. Hand squeezed his harder as Virgil acknowledged receipt of descriptions. Squeezed yet harder as a rustling noise came from behind.

At the base of the Appalachians. A mountain range over 1,600 miles long and stretching from Canada to the Caribbean. Thick forests here in Pennsylvania, can't see through the trees. Thick bushes, thick trees. This was the other side of Blue Mountain from the skiing side. Beautiful country. God's country, some might say. Miles of flat rock and flat land then forests and trees. Rough terrain, near impossible to hike if you strayed from the trail.

Blue Mountain rose behind him, high into the sky as he turned, letting go Karen's hand as his hand twitched again, so ready to grab the gun. Trees not fifteen feet away, suddenly the thought that maybe this wasn't the right place to have set up Mobile Control. Probably overreacting, just an animal, lots of wild animals in these parts. Might be a mountain lion, if it attacked he'd have to shoot. To protect Karen. After all, it could have him. Would be interesting to tangle with a pissed off overgrown kitty. He could win or he could die trying.

Morbid thought fled as the rustling came again.

"Uh-oh."

His head whipped around as Karen whispered the exclamation. "What?"

Four men emerged. Clad in jeans and some with flannel or tee-shirts. All large. All with shaggy unkempt hair, beards that were dirty and too long, knotted in places. Work boots worn through, holes in the shoes, one with cowboy boots. All looked upon him as he and Karen looked back.

"Why did you say uh-oh?" he whispered.

"I didn't believe...I didn't believe they were real," she breathed.

"Who? Who are they?" The men just stood there. Karen gaped openly. "Ma'am, _please_!"

"Uh...I-I'm sorry, I just...I can't stay...I can't stay!" With that, Karen turned on heel and ran. Ran and ran back the many football field lengths to the waiting ambulances and fire trucks.

"Mrs. Grimm!" Scott barked, but she didn't look back, didn't stop. He turned back to the four men. "May I help you gentlemen?"

He couldn't keep the hairs on the back of his neck from bristling. Couldn't keep the goosebumps from forming all over his body. Couldn't keep the small lines of sweat from his upper lip and forehead. His mind raced, taking stock of their appearance – poor, middle-aged, dirty, eagle eyes boring into his skull. Something told him to run. Run after Karen. Be afraid. Can't leave Mobile Control. Even _that_ technology is coveted. Are they here to steal it? Here for the 'birds? Listening to the chatter between John, Virgil, Alan, Gordon. Listening as they reached their destination and prepared to rescue the victims.

"_Mobile Control, acknowledge._"

He daren't move.

"_Mobile Control, please acknowledge._"

If he moved, they might, too.

"_Scott, are you there?_"

_Can't answer you, Virg, not now._

"_Scott._" That sound. The pitch, the tone. Worry. "_Scott, are you reading me?_"

Other voices, discussion, what to do.

The men moved closer. Scott drew his firearm, but as fast as his quick draw was, it wasn't fast enough. Something hit him from behind. He felt the thump, but hadn't time to turn. He felt his body crumple to the ground, felt the pain at the base of his neck. Heard his brother's voice as the last thing lulling him into unconsciousness.

"_Scott!_"


	2. Chapter 2

Head pounding. Eyes thick and unseeing. Couldn't open them. Pounding, pounding, bass drums between the ears. Pain. Wrists hurt. Arms hurt. Legs and ankles hurt. Cold. Numbing. Felt the fabric of his uniform pants. No shirt. Bare-chested. Cold, very cold. Teeth chattering involuntarily, or wanting to chatter but unable to. Unable to because something was _in_ his mouth. He tongued the object. Cloth. Cotton. Dirty. Gag on the taste, on the smell. Stomach and chest heaving. Try to move arms. Can't. They're behind, wrapped around something. Move against it. A pole of some sort. Wood. Smooth, like a telephone pole.

Blinded. Unable to speak. Unable to move. But he could hear. Softly murmuring voices. Some male, some female. Couldn't make out the words, they were too far away and talking too quietly. Shuffling of feet. He could smell them. Dirty. Unclean. Smelling just like the rag in his mouth. One man spoke. A second spoke. Two men looking at him. Discussing him. And he? He was helpless.

"He cain't keep 'em from comin' now."

"'dyou see 'em go under?"

"Yep. Saw 'em. Ort not to 'ave caught this 'un. Make our saviors mighty wrong-sided."

"Naw, Porpie says it'll make 'em come."

"Meantime, what of 'im?"

"Porpie says we c'n do as we please, outta sight of womanfolk and kids."

"But why, Shorty? What you want with this 'un?"

Scott felt bile rise into his throat.

"He's purty, one of the gods. Yew know th' Word. Yer with a god, you become a god."

"Yew think he'll let ya? He don't seem right good in spirit."

"Don't need ta be. I dun heard over yonder in the Alleghenys they dun did it, slept with a god, got taken fer eternity, like Porpie preaches."

"Them ships come to take us, Shorty."

"Yap, Fuller, yap, that they did. And now I'm gonna be a god, I yam."

Scott felt the rope around his waist being loosened. Muscles tensed. Mind flew in every direction. Waited until the rope was loosed, bucked, arched his back. Hand stung his face and he winced inwardly, outwardly showing no fear. Why couldn't he open his eyes? Legs were loosed, still bound at the ankles. Kicked outward, caught someone, possibly in the leg from the sounds of pain. Too bad it wasn't the groin. Another slap on the face. Hands lifted up and up, painfully, rotating the shoulders, up over his head. He struggled, struck out with the two fists bound together. Managed to turn himself around. Couldn't see, only knew he'd turned when the blow to the back of his head made it snap forward into the pole. And darkness fell once more.

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><p>This time he hurt all over. He hurt in places he didn't even know he had. His head felt more like someone had driven an axe into it than a pounding. One split right down the middle. He suddenly wondered if that were the case, but didn't feel the stickiness of blood on his hair or neck. Maybe not, then. His chest and back hurt, he could tell they were scraped and cut from the nature of the pain. He could feel something else, too. Something that made his blood curdle and his heart sink. The worst pain of all, even worse than axe-in-the-head, was coming from both his groin and his butt. His mind recalled the conversation between the two smelly men, and that was when the odors assaulted his nostrils.<p>

They had had their way with him.

He felt vomit rise in his throat and only then realized the stinking gag was no longer in his mouth. He was lying down and managed to roll to his right side as he heaved the entire contents of his stomach out next to him. Hard stone, he was on hard stone. More lurching. God, his body hurt. He'd been violated in the worst imaginable way. More heaving. It came out his mouth, his nose. Tears filled his eyes, at least, he thought there were tears but he didn't feel them spilling onto his cheeks.

That was when he felt the blood, as he rolled onto his back again. It was beneath him, right under his ass. He heaved again, only stomach acid left. Rolled to the side and let it come out. They'd done it. They'd actually done it. But who were they? And why? What of all the talk of becoming a god? He didn't understand. Why would they do this to him?

"Help," he gasped, throat dry and raw from the vomit. Couldn't match the pain in other places. His mind plunged southward. "Help me." Not loud enough for anyone to hear. Not loud enough. Further and further south.

This is what is meant to be. Fitting end for one with the darkness inside. Would they continue to sodomize him? To have sex with him? His groin felt like it had been ripped to shreds. He was weak. Thirsty. Nauseous. The damage to his ass, it was extensive, he could feel it. Tried to block it out, put his mind from it to something else. The boys. The boys! The rescue! Had they been successful? Were they still down there? Had they saved the three victims? What if they were in trouble? No one was there to help them! He wasn't there, he wasn't _there_!

Panic rose within him as he struggled to free his hands and feet, but all he did was rub the skin raw. He felt the ropes dig into his flesh and cried out in frustration. He had to be there, he _had_ to! What were they thinking, they would be afraid, they would be panicking, wondering where he'd gone, unable to find him. Karen, she would tell them. They'd talk to everyone there and she'd tell them.

She'd known who those men were. She'd been afraid. He wished he knew who they were, who had done this to him. If he got out, he'd kill them all with his bare hands, naked or no. Naked. No pants. Yes, completely naked now. Not even socks. Every shred of dignity stripped away. No longer God, but a fallen angel. Thoughts turning and turning. Maybe he'd wanted this. Wanted this escape from things, from life, from the darkness. Plunge _into_ the darkness, eh, Scott? Well, this is it, you got your wish. Let the beast within come out and meet the world.

You asked for it. You wanted it. Your fault anyway, getting captured, you should know better. Can't even keep yourself safe, how could you keep four brothers safe? Frantic, worried about you, you're causing this, causing their angst. All your fault. He wished he knew why he couldn't cry, his eyes felt like they were plastered shut and suddenly someone was there slapping something on his mouth. Tape. He recognized it as duct tape. The smell was unmistakable. Only yesterday he'd used it to re-seal a box of heavy fuses after taking one out, never knowing then that he'd be tasting it through his own lips.

Asked for it, hell, no. He hadn't asked for _this_. Not this. Never this. To know he'd been there helpless, why hadn't they just killed him? Push it down, push it way down to where it couldn't be seen, couldn't be found. Now he had to get out, had to find the boys, had to make sure they were okay. Wounds would heal no matter how much they hurt at that moment, they would heal and he'd bury it along with everything else he'd buried and that sludge, it was going to come out real soon. Real soon.

He struggled, but without being able to see, without knowing where he was or who else was around, even if he got away, where would he go? Could he get whatever was on his eyes off? He couldn't even get the ropes off his wrists. He heard footsteps retreating. Echo. They were echoing. Wherever he was it was large enough to produce an echo. Solid, cold rock. He shivered at its coldness. A cave. A cave! That had to be it. He was in a cave. But where?

If they'd done this to him, what of his brothers? He felt the panic swell again and almost heaved, but managed to push it down. What if they tried to capture them, too? Hurt them? If they hurt them, he'd make them pay. With everything he had left, he'd make them pay. Yes, think it, Scott. Give in to it. Give in to the dark thoughts in your mind. Let them take over. They have to, it's survival. Think them. Let them flow. He'd kill them. He envisioned one of the four men, his dirty face and beard, his haunted eyes, imagined his hands wrapping around the dirty neck, stench filling his nostrils as the man's eyes bulged. Squeezing harder and harder until he fell lifeless to the ground.

Hurt them and you'll die. You'll all die. Father must be so worried. And Grandma. Everyone. What these assholes were doing to him, to his family. He could see the headlines now, hear Ned Cook's voice in his head. _"International Rescue, yes, the very organization that risks their lives for strangers, have lost one of their own. Just a few hours ago, their leader was kidnapped and there's been no word on him. International Rescue are asking for your help. Help them find the one they lost."_

It almost made him laugh. He'd have to describe him in order to have people help look for him, and he couldn't describe him in detail or even give his name, not even his first. Breach of security and security came first. No, they wouldn't give a description, they'd just say to look out for the uniform. Bad since it was no longer on. He wasn't as important as IR, as his family. His heart felt like someone was gripping it tighter and tighter at the thought of never seeing them again. Never seeing Tracy Island or Thunderbird One. What was happening out there? Were they safe? They must be looking for him.

Could it be a trap? Using him to lure them? They would come looking, he knew they would even if he had expressly forbidden it, because they were his brothers. His family. Turn darker, Scott, have to stop thinking sissy or you'll never get out of this alive. Survival, remember what you've learned. Listen. Listen hard, try to gauge captors, gauge their reasons for doing this. Just to fuck him? Hardly, couldn't be, not strong enough reason. But what, then?

Voices again. Voices raised in terror, yelling, screaming. Gunfire. He froze. Machine guns. Pistols. Shotguns. Old-fashioned weapons. More yelling. Men, women, children. His brothers? But there were no laser pistols, they'd be using laser pistols. Couldn't be them. Then who? Local authorities? He tried to scoot across the rock, tried to find a place that perhaps he could hide, but the way was rough and rock jutting out caught his flesh. He whimpered, all the while licking the duct tape, trying to loose it from his mouth. Tried to produce saliva but had none. He began to roll, painfully onto jagged edges, moaning and wanting to cry out from behind the tape.

Rolled over and over, there had to be something, an outcropping, a big rock, something he could get behind as gunfire continued. Then he caught the smell of smoke and recognized a smoke bomb grenade. Hadn't smelled one of those in a long time. It was faint, further away from him, but he could smell it. Heard feet running and tried to roll faster.

"Hey, wait!" A woman's voice, then felt hands on his body, stopping his movement. He struggled against the cool hands. "Calm down, I'm here to help!" Could he believe her? Believe the disembodied voice next to him? The ropes were cut away from his wrists, his ankles. The duct tape was quickly ripped away and he cried out in the moment of pain. "Quickly, we have to get out of here now!"

"My eyes..." he whispered, clawing at them with his newly freed fingers.

"No, don't! Listen, there isn't time, come on, take my hand!"

God, he hurt. Ached. She grabbed his hand and began pulling him. The soles of his feet hit sharp points, but by now he was beginning to slowly go numb from too much pain and too much cold. Now his teeth _could_ chatter, and they did. They ran and ran, he could tell it was a downslope. He stumbled, almost falling three times but she kept him upright. Stumbled into her another time and they went sprawling to the floor. She cried out, as did he.

"It's okay, it's okay," she said, pulling him to his feet. "We're almost to the branch we need."

Branch? What branch? What was she talking about? Who was she? One of them who'd had a change of heart? Here he was completely naked following someone he didn't know. Thankfully the hurt was almost completely numb now. He felt them take a sharp turn, she almost jerking his arm out of its socket. He could hear himself panting. He'd do anything for a drop of water. He must look like shit, covered with blood in the back, who-knew-what on the front. How must he look to her? Did she know who he was? Either as a Tracy or as International Rescue? Who was she, where had she come from?

He couldn't get the questions of out his mind. Suddenly they stopped. He smelled something. It was warm here, wherever they were. "We'll be safe here for a bit. You have to get into this water. It'll help soothe your wounds and I'll work on getting that stuff off your eyes."

"Water." He felt a plastic bottle shoved into his hand and twisted the top off. He guzzled the entire contents in one long swallow and was more than grateful. "Thank you."

"Come on, eventually they'll come. Got to get you cleaned off."

"Where are we?"

"Hot springs. They run about eighty degrees here, you'll get used to it. It's going to hurt at first, you've got a lot of damage."

_No shit. She makes it sound like I'm a plane that got banged up._

"Here, I'll lead you in. You'll be all right, these minerals have been known to be quite magical."

_Yeah, right. Magical would be to take away the fact that someone took me and invaded parts of my body that weren't meant for it. The fact that my brothers...my brothers..._

"Anyone...with you?" he rasped.

"No, I'm alone." She gently led him into a very, very hot pool of water. He shivered as its warmth sank into his bones, into the cuts on his feet and legs as she led him deeper and deeper. It stung, he felt his face screw into odd shapes as the pain shot through his ass, his torso, like a thousand tiny knives cutting into him.

"My name is Kaya Larson. I'm a park ranger here in the Appalachians."

"How...?"

"We've been trying to find the Yoofoh Cult members for months now. I caught sight of them at the edge of the clearing where you were, but by the time I got down the mountainside, they'd already taken you. I tracked you to the cave."

"Yoofoh?" He yelped as she pushed him lower until only his head was above water.

"Yeah, you know, U. F. O. – UFO."

UFO? She had to be kidding. He'd bumped down onto a small outcropping beneath the water. His wounds felt better, soothed. Even his ass was feeling better, though it still stung a bit. She walked between his legs, and that's when he realized he was feeling skin. He jumped, but she steadied him. Was she naked, too?

"Relax, I won't hurt you. I'm just going to use the water and a solvent to get this off your eyes."

"What is it?"

"A mixture they make from tree sap to keep your eyes closed. I can get it off."

There was silence as he let the waters cleanse his body. But inside, the waters did nothing. Rage boiled within him now. Rage at the men who took him, at the whole situation, at what had been done to him. He felt something cool cover his eyes.

"Okay, now, can you hold your breath for one minute? I need the hot water to work with the solvent. Can you do that?" He nodded dumbly, took a deep breath and let her push his head under. Slowly he felt the stuff on his eyes soften. "Don't force your eyes open, let me do it," he heard her say. Kaya, she said her name was. Park ranger. Seemed nice. Wouldn't do to let the bear out now. Keep the growl inside, keep the shaking hands hidden.

He mentally ticked off the seconds and sure enough, when he'd hit sixty, she gently prodded him out of the water by lifting under his chin. "Okay, looks good, give me a few minutes here and you should be seeing again."

"You know...who I am?"

"Yes, you're with International Rescue, I'm going to try and get you back out to them."

"Thank you."

"Hey, no one dies in this forest on _my_ watch, especially not one of you."

A silence descended. Small strange sounds filled his ears. He identified them as bubbling water. "Caves."

"Yes, caves. Listen, I'm really sorry I didn't get here sooner. It's hard to track across the rock flats, I lost the trail a few times."

"S'okay," he mumbled. Truly, what could she have done? "How did you get past them?"

"Two big guns and a smoke bomb."

"Thought I smelled it. Park rangers carry guns?"

"They do when they know there's a dangerous cult loose on their mountain. They're lightweight, though, nothing too bulky."

More silence as she worked.

"Let me just use this cloth to wash your eyelids off one last time and then you can open them." He waited as he felt the warm, wet cloth swish over his left eye and then his right. Then it fell away and he felt her moving back from between his legs. "Try it."

Slowly he opened his eyes. The cave was dark, only a small flashlight held by Kaya lit their surroundings. He blinked. "Can't see right."

"It might take some time. But I need to get you out of here, dried off and dress those wounds." She took his hand. "Follow me."

He let her lead him out onto the cave floor. Soon he felt a blanket 'round him and he used it to dry his hair, his body. It didn't occur to him that he stood here naked and so bruised in front of a complete stranger, and a woman, to boot. All he knew was that he felt better, at least, physically, and he was grateful for what she'd done.

"Okay, I'm going to start with your back. All right?"

He nodded and pulled the blanket around to his front, hugging it against him as her fingers played across his skin. "You've got a couple of nasty ones, I'm going to bandage them and..."

Why had she trailed off like that? "What?"

"I have something you can put on your buttocks to help begin the healing process."

His face flushed hot, he could feel his ears burning. "No need."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but if you don't put something on that you could get an infection sure as you could with any of the rest of these wounds."

He felt like whirling on her, smacking her, knocking her down. But he knew she was only trying to help, and logically she was absolutely right. Logic failed, though, when you knew you had been brutally raped. His mind began to spiral again. All he could do was nod. She placed a small tube into his hand. "After I get done with these gashes, I'll leave you to do that and then I'll check the rest of you."

"Concussion."

"Shit, you're right," she said, stepping in front of him and shining the flashlight into his eyes. "Fixed and dilated. You shouldn't even be on your feet."

"You going to carry me?"

"Hardly, I'm only five-foot-five." She moved back around behind him and he felt a salve being brushed across two painful areas, then felt the syntheskin seal them. "I'll hold the blanket up to hide you, get it over with."

Cold. Clinical. Detached. He supposed she had to be. He had to be the same way. Hold the dead kid in his arms, hand it over to the weeping parents. _Here, take her, get it over with._ Same reaction, same poise, different situations. He uncapped the tube, still unable to clearly see, and reached around behind himself. He couldn't keep the air from hissing through his teeth as he gently daubed a fair amount into place.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. And from the sound of her voice, he knew her words were genuine. He half-shrugged and finished the job, turning to face her. "Let me just check your chest and legs, then we'll wrap this blanket around your waist." He nodded as she moved in closer, shining the light all over him. Moments later, she finally spoke again. "The rest are decent enough, could do with some small bandages, but I'm afraid we need to get moving."

"Where?"

"This cave goes on for another three miles before we get to a small low-tech elevator that leads to ground level. It'll bring us out just under the peak. Less than three-tenths of a mile down to your team. I've already radioed for help."

"Did they answer?"

"I got my ranger HQ, told them who was involved and they said they'd put the call out."

"Won't be able to detect us this deep."

"No, probably not, which is why we've got to get to the surface. You with me?"

Before he could reply to her, they heard footfalls.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed. Quickly she folded the blanket in half and wrapped it around his waist. He tied it in a knot to keep it there as she threw supplies into her backpack and hoisted it onto her back. "Keep hold of my hand, you don't know this place like I do!"

"You!" a gruff voice yelled from the other side. "_Stop!_"


	3. Chapter 3

He shivered, but it wasn't due to being cold. At least, not his body. Inside he was like ice. Fear traveled up and down his spine as his eyes tried desperately to adjust, to focus. He saw three large men. Kaya's hand still held his and he found himself gripping right back.

"Let us go. Others know we're here. They're on their way."

Bold. Certain. In charge. Won't take no for an answer.

"Yew gotta be kiddin' me. Who the fuck 're yew?"

"I'm the park ranger in these parts and I would suggest you lower your weapons."

The three men laughed. Kaya took a small step backwards. Scott followed suit.

"Park ranger a-wearin' a bathin' suit?" One of them guffawed.

Scott frowned and looked over at her. So she _hadn't_ been naked. Sure enough, she wore a dark green bathing suit with a ranger logo on the left upper left.

"Well, little lady, thar's always room fer more in our fam'ly. Mebbe you ain't one of the gods, but yer sure purty."

She backed up again. So did Scott. What were they going to do? He was defenseless, wasn't even wearing clothes, just a blanket tied 'round his waist. And Kaya...she'd used guns to get past them before. Maybe she still had them?

"Why did you take me?" he asked, hoping to offer some distraction. He let go of her hand and stepped forward.

"As if yew don't know."

"I don't," he replied, stepping forward again. "Tell me why."

"Yew think yew c'n keep them from takin' us home, yew gotta 'nother think a-comin'. Yew may be in charge, but yew ain't leavin' us here. We done waited fer yew to come fer years. Yew and yer yoofohs."

"UFOs? But we don't _have_ UFOs. They're the Thunderbirds."

The men fell silent, then he could hear them whispering amongst themselves.

"Yew c'n call 'em whatever yew want, but we knows why they're here, an' it's to take us home."

"No, we're here on a rescue. We're International Rescue." Dead silence. "You know, International Rescue, the organization that saves lives?"

"We were right, Porpie, we were right! It _is_ our saviors come fer us!"

"Course it is, asswipe. Enough of this bull crappin', go get 'em."

It was at that moment he felt the breeze of something beside him. He looked down and to his left and found an automatic machine rifle next to him. He grabbed it from Kaya's hand as she raised the other one. They took aim.

"Yew won't kill us. Yer one of the gods."

"I am no such thing," Scott said, his voice low and menacing. Time to kill. Here to rescue, here to kill. Fuck me, will you, you fucking bastards. Humiliate me, let this woman see me this way. Take me from my family, from my fucking _job_? Fine, then die! _Die!_

He squeezed the trigger.

Bullets sprayed out in front of them. Kaya fired as well. Seconds later, all three men had dropped to the floor. But Scott didn't stop shooting. He walked purposefully across the rock, gun still pointed at them, their bodies jumping with each bullet that tore into their flesh. Tore into their flesh the way they'd torn into his. Well, there's your answer, Scott, you _can_ bring out the beast in front of Kaya. Doesn't matter now anyway.

You exist to save lives. You just took them.

Finally the magazine was empty and the gun clattered to the floor. He stared down at the lifeless men, vision now completely cleared. He'd done it. A soft hand on his arm made him jump. "We have to go," she said quietly. Not any sort of tone, not any implied meaning. No sarcasm, no hatred. Nothing but a flat, emotionless voice. He knew how that was. Right now he hadn't a drop of emotion left.

They were dead.

"Come on, we have to go before they come to." Come to? Was she crazy? She must've seen the look of disbelief on his face. "They're not dead. These are rubber bullets. They're just stunned, probably mostly unconscious, but not dead."

As if to prove she was right, one of them moaned softly. Scott didn't know whether to feel relief or anger. He'd poured himself into that spray of bullets, wishing every one of them dead. Yet instead of actually killing them, he'd only stunned them. Was that good? Was that bad? He'd wanted them dead. For what they'd done, for who-knows-what-else they were going to do. But she pulled at his hand and he noticed she'd gotten herself dressed at some point.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

He and Kaya headed into the tunnel opposite the direction the men had entered. They moved fast, no longer holding hands, as he could now see from her flashlight bobbing ahead of them. What was she thinking? Did she hate him and she was just a good actress? Did she loathe what he had done in his moment of vengeful rage? She still was helping him, but it was the same way he would help someone who was bad if their life was in peril.

_I told you I'd get you, you sons-a-bitches. But in the end I didn't._

Moving, moving, always moving. Not a word spoken. Worried about his brothers, his father, his grandmother. Had to make it. Feet hurting again, but had to keep moving, following Kaya. Her sweat-and-water-soaked forest green tee shirt, her khaki shorts, heavy backpack strapped on. Long, long brown hair tied in a single braid down her back. He remembered her eyes, brown eyes, very dark. Her skin...yes, she was tanned. Different. But not a tan from the sun. Native. He knew the look from his own mother. She had had Native American blood in her.

That thought faded as quickly as it had come. He had allowed himself a moment of weakness and thought three men were dead. But they weren't. They weren't. Three men who'd done the unthinkable. He would never tell. Not Virgil, not Dad, not anyone. No one would know. No one but Kaya. They ran and ran, it seemed they ran forever. Finally she slowed and leaned up against the cave wall. Here where they were, only ten feet separated one side from the other. She sank down into a sitting position. Across from her, he followed suit, both cross-legged.

"What did he mean?" he asked through panting breaths. He had to know. Had to know who these bastards were.

She took a sip out of a bottle of water, then handed it to him. "Sorry, last one, I only carry two with me."

"S'okay, thanks," he said, taking the bottle and drinking about half of it. "Who are these damn UFO-ers?"

"It's a cult. Kind of like Heaven's Gate, you ever read about them in history books?"

He shrugged. "Guess I've heard of them."

"Well, this is a group that's traveled all up and down the Appalachians. We got word they'd settled here in Pennsylvania but had no idea where. They're crazy. They think some UFOs are going to come down, that they're going to board the ships and be taken to the land of the gods."

His mind worked and worked and came up with the answer. "They think _our _ships are the UFOs?"

"Apparently. From what that one said, it's like they saw you as an obstacle or something."

"But...why did they...?" He couldn't even finish the thought.

"Stories have it that these people believe if you sleep with a god, you yourself will become one and be granted the eternal existence forever."

"How do you know all this?"

"Part of my job. If I have to find them and root them off Blue Mountain, I want to know what enemy I'm up against. Most info is a little sketchy, but I pieced together enough to get a pretty clear picture of their way of life."

Scott felt the aches and pains begin creeping their way back into his scope of consciousness. "You wouldn't happen to have a pair of shoes on you."

"No, sorry, we don't expect to find naked men in caves that need rescuing." He noted in the dim light that she seemed to be half-joking if the look on her face was any indication.

He ran a hand through his drying hair and looked down at the blanket around his waist. "Wish you could've found my uniform."

"Oh, I saw it. It was half-burned and hanging from a stalagmite. Wasn't enough left for you to put on."

Scott grunted in annoyance and acceptance of his current predicament. "How much further to the elevator?"

"Not too far. You up to going on?"

"Anything that gets me out of here."

She nodded and they rose to their feet, continuing on. For a long, long time there was nothing but the crunch of her boots on the loose rock and his lowly emitted grunts and winces as his own bare feet touched them. If this kept up he wasn't going to have any skin left. He didn't think about the pain. Didn't think about what had caused it. About the fact that in a moment of hatred he had killed three men. Well, he hadn't killed them, but in his mind, before he found out they were rubber bullets, he had. He'd wanted to. _Needed_ to.

What did that say about him? Confronting at last the beast. He'd let it out, all right, and in front of his rescuer, too. The rescuer becoming the rescued. The upstanding citizen becoming the murderer. International Rescue becoming International Killer. It had felt good. It had felt so good to let it out. But he knew rationally that he was damn lucky they _hadn't_ been real bullets. Could he have lived with it later, those deaths on his hands? Even if they _were_ crazy cult members. But look at what they'd done! Surely if anyone deserved retribution it was them!

Up ahead he saw Kaya's light dance off a rickety-looking wooden contraption. "What the hell is that?"

"That's our way out. You'll have to hold on, it rises pretty fast. Was put in about five years ago in case anyone got stuck or lost down here."

Scott shook his head. The basket, for that's really all it was, was barely big enough for two people to stand. It was made out of thin wood on the sides, about three feet high, and the bottom was thicker wood. Thick rope rose from all four corners, leading up and up higher than he could see. Kaya hopped over the side of it and nodded at him to join her.

"You sure this can carry both of us?"

"Good up to 300 pounds. This thing's a lot more sturdy than it looks."

He looked at the basket dubiously but in the end knew he had little choice. When he lifted his right leg over the side, a sharp pain seared through his groin and stomach and he doubled over. It felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of him. He staggered against the basket, then back into the narrow passage. The pain. So intense. He couldn't catch his breath, his body folding in half as he dropped on hands and knees to the cave floor.

She vaulted out of the basket and was on her knees next to him in an instant. He was vaguely aware of her rubbing his back softly. "Breathe," she said into his ear. "Breathe." But he couldn't. The pain, it felt like someone had stuck a knife right through him from ass to front. He opened his mouth but no sound would emerge. He felt involuntary tears fill his eyes and drip to the stone floor. He squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of nausea that hit him. "Breathe," he heard her again in his ear.

He sucked in a lungful of oxygen and suddenly it all came flying out. "I _can't_!" he roared, pushing himself to his feet. "I can't fucking breathe!" And like a torrent of rain pelting him, something came back to him. Something he'd forgotten. When he saw it, felt it, that's the first time he realized he hadn't been completely unconscious. He remembered. He _remembered_.


	4. Chapter 4

He turned, arm against the cold wall, head resting on his arm as his chest heaved, as the pain finally began to subside. He remembered waking briefly, just as one of them had him in his mouth, as another was probing him from behind. He remembered lashing out against them, felt hands against his throat. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe. Blacked out. He'd felt them touching him. Felt them inside him, on him. Push it down, push it away. Not now. Have to get out. Kaya's risking her neck for me, have to push it down. Get out. Get out. Leave now. Before they come again. Before they come again.

Shit. He heard them coming. He looked up into Kaya's wide eyes. Her voice was strong, but quiet. "We have to go. _Now_."

He nodded, stood up straight and squared his shoulders. She hopped into the basket again and he followed suit, this time with no stab of pain. She wrapped her arms around his torso. Surprised, he looked down at her. "Better hold on," she said, her hand on a lever against the end of the cave wall. He encircled her with his arms and heard a click.

All at once they were rising. Higher and higher and higher, faster than he'd expected. He felt her hair against his chest, felt her arms squeeze him tighter. He braced his feet against each side of the basket and steadied himself as best he could. When they stopped, it was abrupt, bumping them up off the floor a bit, the rope creaking above their heads. He opened his eyes to find himself greeted by twilight. Trees surrounded them everywhere on three sides, with a large, flat white rock in front of him.

Kaya pulled away and stepped out of the basket. Scott followed. He grimaced as his foot hit a pine cone and wished for the tenth time he had some shoes. "I have an idea," she said. She walked over to a large pine tree and stripped two pieces of bark off it. Then she took her backpack off and pulled out a med kit. From that she extracted a roll of medical tape. "Come here."

He dutifully approached her. "Lift up your right foot." He did, and watched in fascination as she put the bark under his foot, back side up. He stepped down onto it, relieved at how soft it felt to his worn and aching feet. She then ordered him to lift it again, her hand holding the piece of bark in place. Quickly she wrapped the tape around and around, the soft bark molding to the sides of his foot, tape holding it in place. She then did the same with his other foot.

"I'll have to remember that trick," he said as he tested them out. Not anything like flip-flops, but a damn sight more comfortable than nothing at all.

"You're welcome," she grinned. He found himself actually offering a smile back.

"Don't suppose you can make a shirt and shorts out of that one," he joked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at a tree with a much larger girth.

She laughed. "No, we don't have time. You'll be all right."

"Are you kidding? My skirt's about shot," he replied, re-knotting the blanket as best he could.

"You want me to make it into a diaper?" He shot her a look, then realized she was joking and laughed out loud. "That's much better," she grinned.

She turned and picked up the backpack. "Let me carry it."

"No chivalry. You're the victim, remember?"

"I'd rather not," he said softly as she hiked it onto her back.

"I know," she replied. "You know something?"

"Mm?"

She turned and walked out onto the flat rock, stepping down onto the next flat rock beneath it. "I don't even know your name. You allowed to tell me that?"

Christ, why not, she'd already seen more than anyone at Base probably ever had since he'd been diaper-age. "Scott."

She just nodded as he followed her. The bark shoes made it infinitely easier than it had been in the cave, and they made good time as darkness fell. Her light bobbed in front of them, but he kept his eyes glued to her. As long as he stepped where she stepped, he'd be okay in this unfamiliar terrain. Rocky flats gave way to a small clearing. He kept hiking the blanket up around him, trying desperately to tie it tight enough to stay on, but it seemed the blanket had other ideas. He cursed softly as it slipped from his hips again halfway across the clearing.

Kaya stopped and turned. "Issues?"

"You could say that. Damn thing won't stay on at all now."

"The diaper offer still stands."

He couldn't really see her face in the night, and suddenly wished he could. She was doing her best to cheer him up, keep him going. He knew the drill. Practiced it on every damn rescue.

"No _thanks_," he replied in mock annoyance. "I think I've been humiliated enough for one day."

He heard her return to his side as he folded the blanket the other way and wrapped it around to tie it on his left hip. "Your secret's safe with me."

Scott snorted. "Which one?"

She shrugged. "All of them. Park ranger confidentiality."

"There's no such thing."

"Would you rather I hit up the news agencies?"

"Fuck no."

"Didn't think so."

Suddenly there was a sound overhead. A sound Scott knew better than he knew his own name. At the same time, loud shouts arose from the west and he and Kaya turned on them. Then Scott looked up. "It's Thunderbird One!" he said as his sleek silver ship came into view. He'd never felt so much relief as he did at that moment.

"Scott! It's them!" Kaya cried. "I'm out of bullets! We have no defense!" She began backing up, her hand on his arm, pulling him with her.

"We have Thunderbird One," he said. "If only I can get them to understand. You have a flare gun?"

"Sure." He held his hand out. She took off the pack and quickly loaded a flare into the black pistol, then handed it to him. Half of him knew that if he fired the flare into the group of men that had appeared in the tree line, he'd burn them all to death. Probably burn half the damn mountain, too. Half of him wanted to. Desperately.

Perhaps the beast had left. Or, if not left, perhaps it had been let out enough that it no longer had the taste for blood. As his two sides fought the internal battle, he looked at Kaya, feeling her hand on his shoulder. And in that moment, he felt the sludge part a bit. Felt something else inside, bubbling up like the water of the hot springs. No, he didn't want to kill them.

He aimed to the right of the men and fired just in front of the tree line, enough to ignite a patch of grass and show whoever was piloting One what was happening. The eight men roared and yelled and headed across the clearing, some with guns, one with a large axe. Scott grinned as One fired a spray of bullets right in front of them, effectively stopping the mob from advancing.

They looked up, saw Thunderbird One, and fell to their knees. One lowered a bit and Scott could see it was John in the pilot's seat through the side viewing window. He shook his head vehemently and waved his arms back and forth to tell John he should under no circumstances land. Scott knew damn well those men would rush One _and_ John...and he and Kaya...if his 'bird set down. As freakish as they were about the UFOs and them being gods, none of them would have a chance if the cult members thought their goal was within their grasp.

_Funny, them bowing like that._ Not dissimilar to his own feelings about his beloved ship. _Christ, I'm as crazy as they are_.

"How far to the base of the mountain?"

"Not far at all."

"We can't let him land, they'll mob him," Scott said as more and more people filled the clearing. They gaped in awe and astonishment at the hovering 'bird before falling to the ground with the others. "Let's go," he whispered. He looked up. John was looking right at them. He motioned toward the downslope and saw John give him the thumbs-up. As he and Kaya ran for the tree line, Thunderbird One turned in midair and followed them as low to the treetops as John could manage without burning their tops off.

They slipped and slid a bit in the dark of night, but Kaya's light was powerful enough that they kept on track pretty well. Thick bushes got in their way several times. To his surprise, Kaya produced a machete-like instrument and began whacking the hell out of the undergrowth. It was slow-going, but he could hear One directly above them and knew John was tracking them on infrared.

It entered his mind that he'd had the opportunity to do something horrific and that, thankfully, he hadn't. That he could've taken a good portion of the cult out with that flare. That he could've gotten his revenge. But even as the horror of his few conscious moments flashed through his mind, he knew that deep down it wasn't him. He was a Tracy, first and foremost. He was his father's son. He was his brothers' leader. He was the field commander for International Rescue. The pilot of Thunderbird One. In command of Base when Father was away.

No, the beast wasn't gone. It was still there. He felt it lurking, waiting for him to slow down long enough to think. But for the moment, it was re-caged, and he huffed a sigh of relief as they broke through the trees and out into the open. To their right, Mobile Control still stood, with Virgil at the panel. There were gasps as they emerged and Virgil's head snapped up. The relief Scott saw in his brother's face under the strong lights that had been brought in suddenly made him more than glad that he hadn't done all the evil things he'd wanted to do. And right then and there, Virgil ran up to him and enveloped him in a bear hug. It hurt, but it felt too good to complain.

Suddenly they were all there. One was landing, Alan ran up, Gordon ran up. He looked up in surprise as his father and Tin-Tin raced to his side. Even _they_ were there. In the confusion, he lost sight of Kaya. In amongst questions from his family, from the local authorities. Teams were dispatched into the forest as John and One went airborne again to locate the cult members, to direct the locals on their search to capture them. Questions and more questions. Yes, he'd been tortured, beaten a bit. Yes, he'd been tied up. Yes, he was okay, Kaya had taken good care of him. Who's Kaya? She's the park ranger who helped me, rescued me. Rescued the rescuer.

He looked around as Virgil led him into Thunderbird Two's pod. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Kaya."

Virgil turned and looked out upon the dozen or so people in the area between them and the forest. "I don't know, Scott. I actually don't remember seeing anyone with you."

"What? Of _course_ she was there with me!"

"Come on, I need to get you into the med bay."

"No!" he cried, wrenching his arm from Virgil's hands. "She saved me, I have to thank her."

"We'll find her, Scott. Okay?"

He turned and looked at Virgil, suddenly realizing how tired and ill he felt. He was drained. He hurt. Bad. Just had to keep the worst of it from Virgil. Couldn't let him see certain parts of him. Had to keep that from his family. He knew Virgil would go crazy if he knew, and he refused to burden his brother..._any_ of them...with it.

"We're going to have to do something to keep you safer at MC," Virgil said as the 'bird lowered herself over the pod. "Maybe have you do it remotely instead of with that equipment."

"I guess I never figured myself for a sitting duck," Scott agreed as he stripped the blanket off and took the auxiliary clothing offered by Virgil. He deftly hid his ass from his brother's eyes as he pulled the underwear and sweatpants on, pulled the shirt over his head, dark blue emblazoned with the IR logo.

"Me either, not like that. And it's never going to happen again." Virgil put his hand on Scott's shoulder, looking him directly in the eye. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Scott half-smiled. If only his brother knew. Maybe he'd tell him. Maybe later. "I need to find her."

"You need to _rest_." Virgil shoved him down on a bed. Scott winced as his ass hit the mattress. "We'll get you back quick and let Brains look you over."

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

Before Scott could protest any further, he felt the hypo in the side of his arm. "Damn you, Virgil."

Virgil gave him a lopsided grin as he pulled the silver blanket over his brother's body. "Yeah, I love you, too."

Scott felt his mind shutting down as the anesthetic took hold. Felt it slowing, saw darkness creep into the corners of his vision. He wanted to thank Kaya. Wanted to thank her for how she'd helped him. What she'd done. For keeping his secret. For surely if she'd told them what happened, they'd all be in there with worried looks on their faces. Sure, he'd get tested, there was always the danger of disease, especially with mountain-dwellers who very obviously didn't do a lot about taking care of themselves. There was always the danger of infection. But he could grab meds from their sick bay stores with no one the wiser, at least not until the next inventory.

The fact was now that he was safe. He was going home. And he would heal. Both outside _and_ in. In fact, maybe he'd already begun.

He fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Scott awoke with a start. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't see. As his eyes drew into focusing mode, he realized the overhead lights were on dim, and knew from their look where he was. He heard the soft beeping of the life sign monitor on the wall behind him. It comforted him. It meant he was home. He turned his head as movement caught his eye. It was Brains approaching.

"Hi, Scott."

"Brains," he said, wetting his lips with his tongue. "How long?"

"We've, uh, kept you down for two days. Just to let your body get some healing done."

Scott nodded once and felt a sharp pain in the back of his head.

"O-Oh, you shouldn't move around too much. You have a bad concussion."

_That_ much he knew. Captivity came rushing back to his mind and he looked back up at Brains, wondering about the large, blue-eyed look he was receiving. "What?"

"I, uh..." Brains cleared his throat and brought his computer pad up to where he could begin tapping on it. "I examined you thoroughly."

Scott's eyes widened. _No._

"I repaired a lot of the tissue and sealed up the broken skin. I also tested you, and so far you seem to have come through clean."

Scott took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly before reopening them. "You won't tell another soul about this."

Brains blinked once, staring into his patient's eyes.

"You haven't told anyone yet, have you?"

"No, Scott. I haven't."

"I want your word."

"I-I don't know, Scott, this is pretty important—"

Scott grabbed his arm. Hard. "Your _word_."

Brains nodded. "My word," he whispered before turning away.

Scott's head began to pound and he closed his eyes. His secret was safe, at least with Brains. But what about...? He opened his eyes again. "Brains?"

"Yes, Scott?"

"What about Kaya?"

"Uh...who?"

"Kaya Larson, the park ranger who got me out of there."

"O-Oh, yes. Ah, perhaps I'll let your father speak with you about that."

Scott frowned as Brains called Jeff. Why let his father speak with him? Oh, God, had something happened? Had Kaya gone public? No. No, she wouldn't do that. She couldn't. Could she? After all, he didn't really know her. Yet he'd felt...what? That she was good? _Unlike you_. Shut the fuck up.

"He's on his way down," Brains reported. "I-I'll check in on you later."

"Thanks."

Brains nodded once and exited. Scott waited with trepidation for his father to appear. _Please don't let her have talked. Please._

* * *

><p><em>Two months later...<em>

He cleared his throat nervously. What the hell was he doing here? Well, he _knew _what he was doing here. In spite of his father's generosity, he wanted to do something himself. Something to thank her properly. She was safe. Penny and Jeff had seen to that with a thorough background check, as they always did when someone got close to any of them. Scott headed up the unusually long flight of wooden stairs until he reached the Blue Mountain Rangers Headquarters. It looked like an old-fashioned log cabin and he smiled. Right up her alley.

He knocked at the door. Through the screen he saw her approach. His heart quickened as she walked up, stopped and stared at him, her jaw dropping. "I don't believe it," she breathed, pushing the door open. "It can't be."

"Hi," he said with a lopsided grin.

She looked him up and down. He very nearly squirmed under her scrutiny. "You know, you look a lot better with your clothes on."

He blinked and frowned. "Am I supposed to take offense at that?"

She laughed heartily. "No, I just mean...you know...you look..._good_."

"I am, thanks. Listen, I, uh...I never got to properly thank you. You know, for...saving my life."

"Well, _someone_ thanked me pretty well. We got a huge endowment not a week after I pulled you out of that cave. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

He shook his head slowly, eyes widening in mock-innocence. "Not at all, no, can't say I do."

"Mm _hm_," she replied, smiling. "So you came all the way here from wherever you guys come from just to say thank you?"

"Well, actually, I was hoping maybe to take you to dinner or something. You know, thank you properly."

"Well, you're quite the gentleman, aren't you?"

"International Rescue at your service, ma'am," he said, bowing slightly, but taking time to wink on his way down.

She looked at her watch. "Craig's already taken over at Lookout 1. Let me just radio him and let him know I'm taking a hike."

Scott nodded as she gestured for him to come inside. He took time to examine the cabin, noting that off to one side there was a bedroom and a kitchen, and filling the massive room he was standing in, an awful lot of technologically advanced equipment. Radars, sensors, infrared, sound wave receivers, at least fifteen separate computer setups. He was more than a little surprised. Somehow he'd had this vision of nothing more than a black pot-bellied stove and a campfire under the stars.

She returned from the call she'd made to her counterpart, pulling her jacket on. "So, we're off to dinner? Your cave or mine?"

He laughed. "No way. No offense, but I've had enough of your caves to last me a lifetime."

Kaya sobered. "How are you, _really_?"

He smiled. And he felt the smile reach his eyes. "I'm all right. Thanks to you." She shrugged and he saw that she'd actually blushed. Quite pleased with himself, he couldn't help but keep going. "You know, anyone who saves International Rescue could get rich off their story."

"Is _that_ what you thought I'd do?" she asked as they exited the cabin and she locked the door behind them.

"No, I didn't, really. But then again, I didn't know you very well."

"Well, I didn't tell. Anyone. I just slipped away. Better to not be available to answer questions. Besides, I wanted to be the one who got the bastards that did that to you."

"You mean, _you_ were with the capture party?"

"Sure was," she threw back over her shoulder as they descended the many steps. "In fact, I got one of them to confess."

"They said one had confessed. Sounds like you went a bit above and beyond."

"Repaying the favor," she said.

"How so?"

"You saved my brother's life," she replied simply. She looked around once they got to the bottom of the stairs. "Seriously, where are we going? I don't see a vehicle of any sort."

"Oh, down to the clearing down there," Scott replied, waving vaguely in front of them. Kaya nodded and started down the path. "We saved your brother?"

"No, not _we_. _You_. He was very clear in his description. I put two and two together when I got a good look at you, already knowing you were with International Rescue."

"When did I save him?" Scott asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Bridle Four," she replied. "Sound familiar?"

"You mean the return capsule from the dark side of the Moon? Last year?"

"Yep. Astronaut Anoki Jordon. My brother."

"I'll be damned."

"Small world, huh?"

"But I thought you said your name was Larson."

"Divorced."

"Ah."

What were the odds he'd be discovered by the relative of someone whose life he had personally saved?

"So, where are we having dinner? What'd you do, bring a camper up here or something?"

"No, not exactly. What are you in the mood for?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," he said with a poker face. "Like Mexican, French, Chinese..."

"Oh. Uh...I don't know, but we don't have many places like that close. Did you bring an ATV?"

"Not exactly."

"You keep saying that."

"We're almost there."

Scott took her arm as the path led them out of the forest and into a good-sized clearing. He watched with amusement as she gaped openly at what sat in it. Hull reflecting the oranges and reds of the setting sun, Thunderbird One gleamed proudly, out of place here among Nature, but no less splendid.

"I don't believe it," she whispered.

"Well, what have you decided?"

She turned to him, eyes still wide with disbelief. "About what?" she squeaked.

"Mexican, French, Chinese..."

"Are you _serious_? You're taking me up in _that_?" she pointed up at it.

"That was the plan." She looked at him, then jumped and threw her arms around his neck, laughing. He grinned at first, then laughed as his arms came around her.

"Thank you!" she cried, pushing away and running toward the 'bird. "I don't believe this, it's incredible!"

Scott watched as she circled One, touching her, admiring her. And he knew that although his demons were not yet gone, though his darkness still bubbled there beneath the surface waiting for a chance to escape, it was moments like this that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, there _was_ hope for him. Over the past couple of months, he'd come to realize that it wasn't just him physically being a sitting duck at Mobile Control that had put him in danger. It was the human part of him playing sitting duck to the side he never let anyone see. Just as with Mobile Control, if he changed things enough inside, Scott Tracy would no longer be at the mercy of forces he'd always felt were mostly _out_ of his control.

He smiled as she ran up to him again, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward Thunderbird One. "Come on, what are we waiting for?"

Yeah. What _was_ he waiting for? He laughed and jogged along beside her until they came to the ladder that led to One's cockpit. He was surprised when she turned without warning, turned right into him. His arms automatically came around her. She looked up and he felt something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. She moved so quickly, standing up on tiptoe and placing a quick kiss on his lips. "Thank you." She turned and began climbing up the ladder.

He felt himself relax. "No," he said softly, watching as she disappeared from sight. "Thank _you_."


End file.
